


your fortressness must now be tested

by seventhstar



Series: a covenant with a bright blazing star [8]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha Katsuki Yuuri, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Regency, M/M, Major Illness, Marriage of Convenience, Omega Victor Nikiforov, Regency, Regency Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 03:52:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13802820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventhstar/pseuds/seventhstar
Summary: “My lord,” he says gravely. Yuuri’s parents acquired Withers from a princess, and he maintains the Katsuki household with the same dignity. “You have a visitor.”“A visitor?” Yuuri says incredulously. “Who?”“A Dr. Lee, my lord. An expert in magical fever and related disorders, I understand. I believe he said you wrote to him specifically, but as he was on the continent, the letter has only just now reached him.”“Oh!” Yuuri throws his coat and hat at Jamison. “Excuse me.”[part of an ongoing series of fics, telling the story of poor and scandalous trademan's son viktor nikiforov's marriage of convenience to the reclusive lord katsuki]





	your fortressness must now be tested

**Author's Note:**

> So far updates have been chronological...that may change coming up because I'm impatient and don't want to keep writing the slowest burn lmao

Viktor barely speaks to him the first day after he wakes.

Despite himself, Yuuri is disappointed. He doesn’t know what he expected, exactly, but this indifferent silence is worse that if Viktor had berated him, or expressed a gratitude Yuuri does not deserve. He asks a few questions of Yuuri upon waking in a voice grown faint from disuse, begs some water and for the fire to be lowered, and then takes to staring at the ceiling.

Yuuri does not dare leave him, in case Viktor needs anything, but neither does he have the courage to speak. He settles himself at his desk and starts attending to his business again. He is relieved to have found, so far, no letters describing emergencies; there are problems that he must solve, and certainly these past two months have been more expensive than Yuuri would have liked.

But Viktor is alive, and the sheer relief of it lifts much of the weight of Yuuri’s financial worries. Better to have to retrench than to have to plan Viktor’s funeral. He writes letter after letter, picks gloomily through his account books, sighs. The smell of winter coming from the window mixes with the scent of the flowers that spill from vases and bowls on every available surface. As they die, Yuuri has them taken outside and buried to fuel the soil; fresh cuttings are brought in to be charmed to bloom.

Finally, five days after keeping vigil in awkward silence, a matter of business forces Yuuri out of the house, to see a tenant family fallen on hard times.

“I am going out,” he says.

Viktor looks at him, and then looks pointedly away.

“I will return soon. Betsy will be here, of course, if you require anything.”

Nothing. Yuuri bows and leaves.

The tenants, a young family with twins and insufficient provisions for the winter, are happy to hear Yuuri will pay for them to have more grain, and happier still when Yuuri promises to have the excess herbs from Viktor’s treatment brought to them for their sickly children. He accepts their effusive thanks with great discomfort—they ought to have been tended to before—and returns to the house at a full gallop.

The butler, Withers, is waiting for him in the foyer.

“My lord,” he says gravely. Yuuri’s parents acquired Withers from a princess, and he maintains the Katsuki household with the same dignity. “You have a visitor.”

“A visitor?” Yuuri says incredulously. “Who?”

“A Dr. Lee, my lord. An expert in magical fever and related disorders, I understand. I believe he said you wrote to him specifically, but as he was on the continent, the letter has only just now reached him.”

“Oh!” Yuuri throws his coat and hat at Withers. “Excuse me.”

The climb up the staircase is tortuously long, and worse yet, halfway up he hears the distinct sound of raised voices from his bedchamber. Is the doctor _insulting_ Yuuri’s husband? Yuuri will throw him out the window if it comes to that.

“…a charlatan,” Viktor says hoarsely, “come to profit off of despair—”

“I am a well respected physician,” Dr. Lee replies flatly. “I wouldn’t expect you to know any better.”

The two of them are quarreling, Viktor propped up against the headboard with his nightshirt open and his fine hair spilled over his shoulders. Yuuri, in a fit of what he can only call insanity, feels a pang of jealousy knowing another alpha has laid eyes on Viktor. He shakes his head, trying to dislodge the idiocy.

“Excuse me!” Yuuri says. “Dr. Lee, I am Lord Katsuki.”

“My lord.” Dr. Lee offers the shallowest possible bow. “Your letter was forwarded me to France. It seems that I have arrived just in time, but I will not tolerate an unruly patient.”

“Dr. Lee, you cannot speak to my—”

“No one with sense would agree to be the object of an experiment, of an untried remedy, and also pay a premium for the privilege of risking their lives,” Viktor interrupts. He coughs, red spots appearing on his cheeks, and Yuuri ladles water into a cup and presses it into his hands. After a long draught, he continues. “If it were as obvious and as easy as you say, you would not be nearly so insistent, you would have hordes of patients.”

“If it’s a question of money,” Yuuri says, “surely, for your health, Viktor, there can be no objection.”

“My lord, I would beg that you be silent before you lose that fifty thousand pounds as quickly as you gained it.” Viktor finishes his glass of water and tosses the empty cup weakly onto the bed. “Now, Dr. Lee, perhaps you will explain what you are proposing before you attempt to extort us of all our money.”

Dr. Lee looks furious, but Yuuri dares not contradict Viktor and cause another argument. Viktor folds his hands expectantly, and Betsy comes in with a tea tray, and once everyone has been pacified with a hot drink and a sandwich, Yuuri drags over two chairs and lets Dr. Lee explain his theories. He is Korean and surprisingly young, with heavy brows that lend well to his perpetual scowl; there is fur on his breeches, suggesting he has a pet.

Yuuri’s correspondents assured him Dr. Seung gil Lee was a genius.

“I suppose I should see what knowledge you have,” he begins. “Do you understand the fundamental limitation of magical healing?”

“It’s too difficult,” Yuuri says.

“It’s inefficient,” Viktor says.

Dr. Lee raises his eyebrows, but nods. “To heal someone with magic requires an enormous amount of power. Most mages, even working in groups, are no more effective than the body itself. But they treat ordinary illnesses, not magical ones. The actual spell used to heal is very simple; the trainees can learn it in a day.” He sips his tea. “So I have theorized that instead of expunging magic, as is usually advised for survivors of magical fever, the patient should refrain from magic for as long as possible.”

“But isn’t that painful?”

“Excruciating.” Dr. Lee shrugs. “But the stored up power will naturally accelerate the healing of the damage caused by the magical fever. It will not heal a broken leg, or an aneurysm, but it should shorten your recovery time after being bedbound for so long by the fever.”

“Should,” Viktor says. “For how long would I have to refrain?”

“A year.”

“A year?” Yuuri asks incredulously.

“Approximately.” Dr. Lee inclines his head. “Less, if you are strong.”

“I _am_ strong,” Viktor says firmly. Dr. Lee looks skeptical. “You require proof? Go out into the hall and into the room at the end of the hall. The last door on the right.”

Dr. Lee shakes his head, but Yuuri glares at him until he complies. Yuuri has no idea himself what Viktor is referring to. The only rooms on this hall are family bedchambers; other than his sister, Minako, and Viktor’s old rooms, all of them are closed up. Footsteps sound in the hall as Dr. Lee returns.

“You cast that?”

“I did.”

“When?”

“Perhaps two and a half months ago.”

“We will reassess in two months, then,” Dr. Lee says. “It’s possible you will recover faster than I calculated. And as for my fees, I require room and board for the foreseeable future. I do not eat vegetables. In addition, I will need five thousand pounds for medical necessities, and another thousand pounds per month as salary. And a horse.”

“Absolutely not,” Viktor says, just as Yuuri opens his mouth to agree. “Room and board, yes. I suppose something can be contrived for meals. Medical necessities as needed. Ten pounds a week salary, and if I recover as predicted we will discuss further renumeration.”

“Five hundred pounds monthly.”

“Twenty weekly.”

“Three hundred.”

“Fifty monthly, with the promise to recommend you widely.”

“Fine.”

The negotiation ceases. It takes Yuuri a few seconds to remember that he is the master of the household, and ought to act. He tugs on the bell pull to call back Betsy. He directs her to open up a room for Dr. Lee, and to deliver him to the parlor in the mean time. Viktor slumps back against the pillows, seemingly exhausted, and Yuuri starts to sit down on the edge of the bed.

Viktor stares at him.

Yuuri gets up and brushes dust off his trousers.

“I have something I wish to discuss with you.”

“I would be happy to vacate your chambers.”

“No!” Yuuri blushes. “This is the most comfortable bed in the house, you must stay. No, I wished to ask you about your correspondence.”

“…my correspondence.”

“Yes, you received some letters and I—”

“You read my letters?”

“Yes?”

“Burn them, I have no wish to read them.”

“But—I only—I thought you would die—”

“Burn them,” Viktor repeats. “Was there anything else, my lord?”

“Viktor, I know you must be angry.”

“I am not.” Viktor shrugs. “Why should I be? I suppose it is your right to read my letters, or to do anything you wish with me, husband mine.” He sighs. “I hope you are making good use of the money. Is your estate prospering, at least?”

“I don’t know,” Yuuri says softly. “Today is the first time I have left this room for any length of time since you fell ill.”

Viktor stares at him, but his expression has changed entirely. His eyes are piercing, blue, wide, and Yuuri feels as if Viktor is seeing right to the heart of him. He shivers.

Then he seizes the nearest vase, mumbles some nonsense about refreshing it, and flees. Out in the hall, he finds the blooms are still vibrant; he inhales, deeply, trying to keep his composure in the face of Viktor’s anger, trying to forget the way Viktor made ‘husband mine’ the worse of insults. He stays in his study the rest of the day, only returning to Viktor to bring a tonic Dr. Lee has prepared and to deliver him his dinner on a tray. They do not speak.

Dr. Lee looks disgusted at dinner, picking through the steamed rice and vegetables the cook has prepared, but Yuuri pays his peculiar tastes no mind at all. He is thinking only that faced with Viktor’s thinly concealed rage, he could not muster up the courage to apologize.

 _Tomorrow,_ Yuuri thinks, and forces himself to clean his plate. He will need his strength.

**Author's Note:**

> comments are much appreciated!


End file.
